


The Starbucks Times

by topcatnikki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bathroom Sex, Crack, M/M, Oops, Public Blow Jobs, Soulmates, dumbassery in its finest hour, wow this is pure crack sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topcatnikki/pseuds/topcatnikki
Summary: Yuuri had avoided most of the fuss and the silliness over soulmates and soulmarks, he’d had to really because all of the romantic tropes had just made him emo as heck when thinking of his goddamn Starbucks branded love of his life, but he’s seen enough daytime tv and watched enough romcoms with Phichit to know that the world is meant to stop and everything melts away. He’s seen the tropes and he’s disliked them for a long, long time.





	The Starbucks Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giacometti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giacometti/gifts).



> This is a tiny piece of crack for Alli to calm her Flying nerves <3
> 
> To any other poor soul who happens upon it, I apologise deeply for what you're about to read.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in want of an espresso can oft be found in Starbucks.... this is not the case for Yuuri Katsuki. 

 

Yuuri would not be found within a mile radius of a Starbucks, well if he could help it anyway.  It all started with the chicken scratch soulmark that took up the back of his left thigh: most people’s soulmarks were a few words, a ‘hello’ or ‘oh, sorry!’ - not Yuuri. 

 

Yuuri’s was a list, a goddamn list spilled out in darkened letters of fourteen cups of coffee - Starbucks coffee to be exact, he’d had to google it as a teen - Americanos, Extra shot macchiatos; it was all there in scrawled English that had been impossible to read for him until he had to beg Mari to photograph it for him, blushing furiously as he stood in his undies and a shirt.

 

Hence his life-long aversion of coffeeshops.

 

He’d even gone as far as to avoid  _ coffee _ for years, sticking to every variety of tea rather than tempting fate, no matter how delicious the curling scent of the guy in the street’s latte smelled. 

 

Fate isn’t really something you tempt, though. Fate is the son of a bitch who drags you in whether you like it or not.

 

Yuuri’s first, illicit, glorious taste of the beauty that is coffee came because his desk-mate Phichit had mixed up their cups. It took as little as that, a single sip of his peppermint latte and Yuuri was hooked, drowning in the need for all of the caffienated treats he could put in his face.

It was becoming something of a problem for him in the office: he was garnering a reputation for being the lazy guy who never did the Starbucks run but always ordered, getting side-eyes whenever the orders went round. Or, more likely, that was his anxiety talking, but it  _ felt _ like that damnit.

 

So after much soul searching, after nights of tossing and turning in his bed, Yuuri sacrifices himself upon the altar of Office Etiquette, and offers to do the coffee run one dull, grey, Tuesday afternoon.

 

He doesn’t look at the list clutched in his sweaty fist; he’s too focused on reminding himself that there are like a million Starbucks on the planet and it’s so, so unlikely that the first one he walks into is going to contain his soulmate. Yes, he’s destined to meet his soulmate at a Starbucks, yes it’s probably a barista, yes he’s going to an actual Starbucks because his colleagues are brand snobs, yes he’s only slightly panicking…

 

He’ll just have to power through it though - there are a bunch of coffee starved programmers depending upon his ability to buy goddamn coffee and he won’t let them down!

 

So, Yuuri Katsuki the Starbucks virgin ends up slamming with far more force than necessary through the door, startling a few of the people in the queue ahead of him and causing the plate glass to shudder in horror at its treatment. He ignores the looks and the gasp of shock from one woman behind her iMac, he ignores everything but the queue ahead of him as he steps in line.

 

Yuuri takes deep, steadying breaths as he waits, turning the list of coffees in his balmy fingers and scanning over the faces of the Baristas. Is it wrong of him to think that not one of them is his type? Yes. Yes it is, he’s not here for his soulmate - he’s here to buy goddamn coffee! He ducks his head, hiding the frown that crinkles his brow and finds himself staring at the list, smudged and worn already in his anxious hands.

 

It’s  _ his _ list. 

 

The list on his goddamn leg.

 

Well shit.

 

The shock of seeing the words he knows so well loosens his grip on the paper and it flutters out of his fingers, falling in a whirling arc to the gleaming wooden flooring and stopping by the feet of the person behind him. Before he can duck to reclaim the list, it’s reclaimed by the slim fingers of the guy behind him, who scans over it and recites the list to himself before he smiles brightly at Yuuri and adds, “Wow, that’s a lot of coffee! I hope it’s not all for you!” a colourful accent tainting the words and making Yuuri’s stomach swoop.

 

Yuuri should take a breath, maybe gather his thoughts, maybe sit down and consider the words that he should say to his soulmate? Instead he makes direct eye contact with his soulmate and says: “Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me?”

 

Yes, the stay of execution would have been great, could have been an opportunity for him to take in the fact that his  _ soulmate _ is fucking hot, and fucking Russian, and fucking tall, and fuck he has to stop saying  _ fuck _ \- but instead the words are out and the poor guy blinks at him in shock for a second.

 

Yuuri had avoided most of the fuss and the silliness over soulmates and soulmarks, he’d had to really because all of the romantic tropes had just made him emo as heck when thinking of his goddamn Starbucks branded love of his life, but he’s seen enough daytime tv and watched enough romcoms with Phichit to know that the world is meant to stop and everything melts away. He’s seen the tropes and he’s disliked them for a long, long time.

 

Until now.

 

The world falls away and everything is suddenly, suddenly out of focus. Apart from his face.  _ His _ face. This person, this amazingly stunning and suddenly  _ there _ guy who Yuuri wouldn’t want to take his eyes off if he  _ could _ . He’s  _ breathtaking _ .

 

He’s breathtaking and real and he’s stood less than two feet from Yuuri, the shock has dissolved from his expression to be replaced with a blossoming warmth that softens the sharp angles of his features. He breathes out a huffed laugh, “It’s you, isn’t it?” 

 

Their fingers meet, tangling over the crumpled list in their grasp and the feeling is like a current that tingles immediately up through his arm and right to his heart. 

 

Yuuri nods, never breaking eye contact as he feels the blush creeping over his cheeks. He doesn’t bother to hide it, it’s being mirrored back over the bridge of his soulmates nose after all, so he just lets his fingers cover his soulmates own and smiles.

 

* * *

 

Victor’s back hits the stall door without giving him a chance to catch himself, the toilet paper dispenser hip checks him and his shoulder complains at the treatment as it makes contact with the stall walls. He pays them no mind at all. Victor is far too occupied with the frantic hands and warm lips of his soulmate as they make burning trails all over every inch of him that they can get their hands on. 

 

The guy -  _ “Yuuri, call me Yuuri -” _ \- is all rough touch and razor edged kisses and Victor finds himself pinned to the stall within seconds and simply holding on for dear life as he gasps, “Yuuri!” 

 

“Fuck, you’re hot. How’re you so hot?” Yuuri’s teeth find his collarbone, his fingers having already made quick work of Victor’s tie and button down and Victor can only nod in wordless agreement when Yuuri’s trailing his hands over the skin of his stomach and landing on the silver buckle of his belt. His own grip moves to Yuuri’s hair and drags the man back into another bruising kiss.

 

They’ve known each other for less than ten minutes and they’ve spoken a cumulative twelve words to each other but Victor know that this  _ has _ to be love because Yuuri is kissing him like he was made to do it and groans into Victor’s mouth when he pulls their hips together. Yes, the movement stills Yuuri’s fingers at his belt, but it brings their crotches into close proximity and isn’t that just the best fucking thing on the planet right now because he’s hard and maybe dying if he doesn’t get a hand on his dick right about now.

 

“Victor, fuck -” Yuuri has to grip the edge of the stall, bracketing Victor in and dropping a sloppy kiss into the crook of his neck. “Yeah, that… keep doing that.”

 

It’s exquisite, the friction, the hard line of Yuuri’s dick pressed against his own as their hips shift against each other, but it’s not enough. There’s a whine working it’s way out of Victor’s throat powered by the fact that he’s as of yet not seen his soulmates cock and that should be resolved asap because he has an eleven o clock that he really should be prepping for….

 

Yuuri isn’t thinking about morning meeting, he’s not letting his focus waver. Yuuri is a fucking oncoming storm and Victor is all to willing to let himself sink under the waves. Yuuri -glorious, amazing, beautiful Yuuri- breaks Victor’s grip with a determined hand and sinks to his knees with a predators smile on his lips and a hungry look in his eye.

 

Victor’s fairly certain that he can hear the Hallelujah chorus, it’s set to the tune of an unlatching belt buckle and the swoop of his fly being loosened. Victor is about at his limit for just losing his fucking mind right now, at this rate he’ll have a pavlovian response to the scent of urinal cakes because Yuuri is licking his lips and fishing his cock from his underwear and its the fucking hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

 

“Is this okay?” Yuuri asks in a huffed question that bleeds with an edge of the shy guy who had looked so shocked only fifteen minutes ago. 

 

“Yes. Yes please,  _ Yuuri _ .” Victor isn’t sure when he got so desperate, but it somewhere between meeting Yuuri and meeting Yuuri’s lips as the man had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the Starbucks bathroom.

 

Yuuri watches him from his place on the roughly tiled floor of the stall, hand working over the length of his dick for a second and grinning before he winks up at Victor and swallows his dick without further batting an eye.

 

His dick. 

 

All of it. 

 

Shit. 

 

Has Victor mentioned that his soulmate is perfect? Because his soulmate is fucking  _ perfect _ . Perfect, and apparently determined to suck his brains out through his cock. Jesus. Yuuri’s mouth is hot and wet, tight suction working over every inch of him and swallowing him down like he’s starving for it. Victor’s head feels like it’s about to roll of his shoulders, instead it makes a heavy thudding noise as it meet the stall wall. 

 

He can’t think straight, he can’t open his eyes because all he can think is that his soulmate might be the most amazing and brilliant cocksucker in the history of the world and he’s all Victor’s. 

 

Amazing.

 

Beautiful.

 

Currently opening his own flies and pulling his own cock out, running his fingers over the length and moaning around Victor’s dick.

 

And this, my friends, is the story of how Victor Nikiforov died. The final nail in the coffin the sight of his soulmate spilling his load over his fist at the taste of Victor’s climax dripping from his lips. 

 

It takes nothing for him to fall to his knees, no effort at all to land in Yuuri’s lap panting his last breaths into his lovers mouth as Yuuri captures him with lips and arms.

 

And No, Victor does not, in fact, die. 

 

In fact he manages to compose himself and clean himself up, sharing small smiles and giggles with his soulmate at their ridiculousness. He even manages to ask his soulmate to dinner and drinks! He’s such a good soulmate! Or, he is until they exit the bathroom, hand in hand and find several patrons staring at them in outrage and an apoplectic manager ready to call the cops.

 

Then, Victor is less than chivalrous, and bursts into hysterical laughter and drags Yuuri away before the aforementioned manager can make good on his threat.

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY


End file.
